Lorelei
by augiesannie
Summary: That magical night in the gazebo has faded into a wistful memory. With one month left before the wedding, Maria's troubles seem to grow bigger by the day, and even worse, she is alone with her misery, as Georg has become otherwise engaged. "She created quite a stir, and I want to be like her!" Please leave me a review.
1. Chapter 1

**LORELEI**

 **Chapter 1**

"Georg?"

When there was no reply, Maria pushed open the heavy door to the study, where she found Georg sitting behind the massive mahogany desk, barking about matters of business over the telephone while studying some papers spread out before him. At least she thought it was business: he was speaking French, so he might just as easily have been making arrangements for their honeymoon, and Maria would not have known the difference. Except that she _did_ know her Captain: although the wedding was still a month away, plans for their trip to Paris were already in place, every detail mapped out with military precision.

When he saw her, his face brightened, and he covered the receiver with his hand just long enough to say, "Shipping deal in Le Havre. I'll just be another minute or two."

"Maria, dear. What could possibly explain that scowl on your lovely face? More wedding woes?" Max Detweiler inquired. He was stretched out on the big leather sofa nearby, an open book face-down on his chest and a cup of tea and plate of biscuits within reach, the picture of complete relaxation. Even though Maria felt anything but relaxed these days, she couldn't help returning his smile.

"No, Max, not this time." Although the truth was, there _were_ plenty of wedding woes, a new one every hour, but she couldn't bring herself to admit the true extent of her worries within earshot of Georg. No, she'd gotten herself into this wedding mess, and she'd have to get herself out of it.

"The children?"

"No, they went easy on me this morning," she reported with a rueful laugh. "And I've got another few hours to myself before they return from school."

"The household then."

"No, I think I'm sorting all that out, slowly. Today I finally mastered the difference between fall and spring cleaning! Although in a way, I suppose it _is_ the household I've got on my mind."

"Come sit by me," he said, hauling himself upright and patting the seat next to him. "Come tell Uncle Max all the details."

Maria knew from experience that her Captain's calls sometimes lasted much longer than the promised "minute or two," so she gladly dropped into the proffered seat next to Max and helped herself to a biscuit.

Despite the infuriating reason for his continued presence at the villa, Maria adored Max Detweiler. He had been nothing but kind to her, starting with the miserable evening of Baroness Schrader's grand and glorious party. Although she had since come to understand the business motives behind his behavior, still, he'd spoken kindly to her at that humiliating moment when even Georg had frozen her out in an uncharacteristic act of cowardice. Max had positively crowed with delight upon hearing the news of their engagement, and since then, Maria knew, he had been her stalwart defender, in the swirl of gossip that began seemingly within minutes of that news becoming public, and quickly spread from one end of Austria to the other. She had been sorry to see Max leave Salzburg the day after they got engaged, and even sorrier to see him return a week later.

"Well," she began to explain, "You see, Peter-"

"Peter?"

"The gardener. He woke up in the middle of the night, convinced he had left a lantern burning in the garden shed, and he was so worried about causing a fire that he went back to check. He found Hans-"

"Hans?"

"Peter's assistant. He found Hans with one of the housemaids, having an – ehrm – an _assignation_."

Although she felt her cheeks turn pink, Maria felt she had handled the revelation with a certain degree of sophistication. She tried not to notice Max's lips twitch.

"An assignation? Is that what you call it, Maria?"

"In polite company, that will do, yes," Georg said, joining them. He seated himself in the big armchair. "The two have been let go, of course. Hans is a married man!"

"Married to someone other than the housemaid, I take it," Max grinned.

"It's not funny, Max. I won't tolerate that kind of behavior around here. I have five daughters, not to mention several single young women on the staff living under my roof, for whom I bear a certain responsibility. A man like that has no place here. As for the girl, she can easily find employment somewhere else, but I don't want her-"

"But that's what I wanted to talk to you about," Maria interrupted. "It's the girl, Georg. She has a name, you know. Lolly. And she hasn't had an easy time of things. I just came from her room and she told me all about it. She's an orphan, raised by an aunt and uncle who weren't very kind to her. Just like me! She could easily _be_ me!"

"Except for the stint at Nonnberg Abbey, I suppose. That's where your paths must have diverged. Because I don't recall your dallying with any married men, darling," Georg said dryly. "Unless you've been keeping secrets from me."

"Can't we give her another chance, Georg? She hasn't had all the advantages your girls have had."

"Neither did you, Maria," he said firmly. "We are not dealing with a family member here, or a friend. We are talking about employees, people with whom we have a business relationship, and we owe them nothing more."

"Even Frau Schmidt?" Maria countered. She liked the housekeeper – she really did – but the long hours of immersion required to master the tedious details of managing an aristocratic household sometimes made Maria long for Sister Berthe, who by comparison to Frau Schmidt, was a tolerant and forgiving teacher.

Georg set his jaw. "That's an entirely different situation. Frau Schmidt held this household together during Agathe's long illness, and even more so during the years after she died. There is nothing I wouldn't do for her. It is an exceptional situation, and one I don't intend to make the norm. I don't want a young woman with loose morals around my daughters. Or my sons, for that matter. Think about Friedrich!"

"Friedrich?" Maria was amazed. "But he's only fourteen!"

"Exactly!" Georg said triumphantly. "That girl under the same roof as my children? Absolutely out of the question! And that's all there is to it." He rose to his feet and strode across the room, as though signaling that the conversation was at an end.

 _Friedrich?_ It was yet another one of those moments – they seemed to happen almost daily since her arrival at the villa months earlier - where Maria had the feeling that a curtain had been lifted so that she could see a side of life she had never imagined.

She followed him to where he stood by the terrace door, looking out at the lake. "Please, darling?" she wheedled, sliding her arms around his waist and looking up at him through her lashes. She'd learned a thing or two about getting her way with her Captain since that night in the gazebo, although with Max's constant presence, she didn't get much of a chance to practice, not any more.

Georg chuckled, looking down at her with an expression of amused affection, although Maria could have sworn she saw something flicker in his dark blue eyes, something she recognized from those first heady nights of their engagement, before everything had changed.

"All right," he shook his head, before gently detaching her arms from his waist. "Have it your way, Maria. Hans goes, but the girl – what did you say her name was? – the girl can stay."

"Oh, Georg darling, thank you! And – ehrm - one more thing? Please promise me you'll be especially kind to Lolly, won't you?"

"Whatever makes you happy, Maria. But don't say I didn't warn you. This kind of gesture never works out well."

Maria barely heard the warning, though; she threw her arms around her Captain's neck and planted a kiss squarely on his mouth before he could elude her. Throwing Max a victorious look, she scurried back to the kitchen to tell Frau Schmidt her news.

The older woman shook her head. "Whatever you like, Fraulein Maria. You're in charge now, after all. I shouldn't be talking to you this way, but there's still a month until the wedding, so I'll say it anyway: you are too kind-hearted for your own good. And I _am_ going to insist on one condition. Lolly had too much freedom as a housemaid. Send her down to the laundry where Millie can keep an eye on her. Also, while you're here, I have a question about the little sandwiches for the wedding breakfast, and also, whether we ought to order more crab puffs-"

But Maria had already fled. She simply couldn't wait to tell Lolly the good news! Climbing the stairs to the third floor, she thought about the wayward girls who had occasionally presented themselves at the Abbey gate. Girls so starved for affection that they had gotten themselves in trouble, whose families had turned them out, and who would spend a lifetime paying for a single mistake. What a blessing, to have the ability to save Lolly from such a fate! Maria had always been kindly disposed toward those girls, back at the Abbey, but she hadn't understood them, or sympathized with them. Not really, not the way she did now.

In the first week after that blissful night in the gazebo, Maria had learned a great deal about the utter impossibility of resisting temptation, at least a certain kind of temptation far more powerful than the lure of blue skies and fragrant mountain meadows. Take kissing: until that remarkable night, there had been a great deal she hadn't understood about kissing, about how a man could kiss you with his whole body until you wanted to do a great deal more with _your_ body than simply kiss him back.

The second night of their engagement, the two of them had taken a long drive up into the mountains, to a special spot Georg knew where, he promised, the sunset views were magnificent. Incomparable, even. But the spectacular view went unadmired in favor of an hour of furious necking in the awkward confines of the car.

The third night it had rained, so there was no possible pretense about sunsets, but after the children went to bed, there was a frantic and enlightening two hours behind the locked doors of his study.

Every evening of that first week brought new and thrilling liberties taken, sometimes on long drives to nowhere, other times locked safely behind the doors of his study. During the daytimes in between, with the children back in school, Maria tried to concentrate on the wedding and learning the details of running the household. But she was far too distracted to do anything other than relive memories of the previous evening and, with her heart pounding, anticipate the evening to come. Her skin prickled constantly with the memory of his touch.

How did married people function, anyway? She found it nearly impossible to go about her daily business with his taste on her lips and the unseen traces left by his long fingers sliding under her blouse or searching beneath her skirt, creeping a little higher every night. Every morning, she woke with her head full of memories that left no room for guilt or shame, her sole concern choosing an outfit that would facilitate the coming evening's adventures.

Until the seventh night of their engagement, when everything had changed. But Maria didn't like to think about _that_.

"Lolly?" the door was half-open, so Maria entered the girl's room without knocking, to find her just as she'd been an hour ago: crumpled on the bed, weeping lavishly, dark eyes swollen and golden hair in a tangled mess.

"Oh, Lolly, dearest, _do_ stop crying. I have wonderful news for you! Captain von Trapp has agreed to let you stay on. You're going to work in the laundry, doesn't that sound nice?"

The news was met with a mournful sob and a string of hiccupping moans as Lolly struggled up to a sitting position. "Th-thank you, Fraulein Maria. I'm very grateful, really I am, it's only that-"

"Only that what? Your position is secure, you have a chance for a fresh start, and you'll love working with old Millie, I just know it."

Maria winced as Lolly wiped her nose with her sleeve and explained, "It's Hans, Fraulein Maria. My _man_. He's gone now, gone for good, and I'll never s-see him again, not ev-ev-ever, and-" the rest of the sentence was submerged in a rising tide of gasping sobs.

"But Lolly! You deserve better than a wretch like that. A man with a _wife._ And they have two little boys, did you know that? The way Hans _lured_ you into-" A dark worry crossed Maria's mind. "Lolly, did you – he didn't – you're not going to have a baby, are you?"

"No," the girl sniffed, wiping her damp sleeve across her nose again, "I didn't do anything like that. But I wish I had."

Maria sighed with relief. "Now," she directed, in her best governess voice, "let's start at the very beginning, by getting you something more – ehrm – _suitable_ to wear when you're off duty, shall we?" She looked doubtfully at Lolly's outfit, the skirt too short, her scooped blouse a size too small. "We'll make a proper young lady out of you in no time," Mariasaid cheerfully. "Liesl has plenty of lovely things she never wears. Let me go find you something suitable, while you wash your face. And for heaven's sake, Lolly, find a handkerchief, would you?"

Liesl would find some objection to sharing her castoffs with a housemaid, Maria knew. Liesl - and Louisa and Brigitta for that matter – they had all been impossible lately, complaining constantly, refusing to help their younger sisters get ready for school, failing to make their beds because "we never had to do that before you came." Liesl had wrinkled her nose at the maid of honor's dress, but at least she'd agreed to wear it, while Louisa and Brigitta had refused outright to be bridesmaids.

Maria longed for the days when the von Trapp children had been fiercely devoted to her, but she tried to be understanding. They had lost their mother and suffered through eleven governesses before becoming deeply attached to the twelfth, who had lost their trust by running away from them. Although they'd welcomed her back from the Abbey at first, now that she was about to become their stepmother, they were clearly testing the limits of her love before letting her into their hearts for good. Surely her heart was big enough to pass this test. Wasn't it?

Rooting through Liesl's closet, Maria tried to redirect her irritation from the von Trapp girls to Hans, the contemptible gardener's assistant, but somehow, her conversation with Lolly kept forcing her thoughts back to the night that had changed everything, exactly one week after the magical interlude in the gazebo.

Maria and Georg had returned long after midnight from one of their "drives." The villa was dark and still, and as they crossed the foyer, Maria caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, blouse misbuttoned, hair awry, eyes dazed, neck rash-red from his kisses. They had paused on the landing for one last kiss, just like always, but tonight he kissed her with unusual ferocity.

When the kiss ended at last, his mouth still brushing against hers as though he couldn't bear any further separation, he whispered hoarsely, "Maria. I want you to – ehrm – I ask you to - please. Come upstairs with me. _Please_ ," he repeated urgently. When he tugged her gently in the direction of the family wing, there was no mistaking his meaning.

"Me?" She felt her face turn hot.

"Yes, you, you goose." he smiled tenderly, brushing a thumb across her mouth, still swollen from hours of kissing. "You and no one else. Not for me, not ever."

Then Georg slid his hand round to the back of her neck and his gaze caught and held hers, his eyes flashing with something dangerous. "I'm a grown man, and you, love _,_ are a _very_ desirable woman. Let me love you the way a man is meant to love a woman. It will all be proper and legal in a matter of weeks anyway. I'll have you back in your room first thing, before anyone is the wiser."

Maria struggled to speak. "I-"

"Or if you prefer, we can go-" he nodded in the direction of her room, in the staff wing. "Come on!" he coaxed. His fingers tickled across the sensitive skin at the back of her neck. "You know you want to."

And Maria _did_ want to. She wasn't angry, or even put off by the idea, but he had caught her by surprise. Yes. She was _surprised,_ more than anything else, and if she were perfectly honest with herself, more than a little curious. In her mind, what was going to happen after the wedding, the part that was going to happen in an actual _bed_ , had seemed almost like a fairy tale – remote, not quite real, and even a bit of a mystery. Now, without warning, the fairy tale was within reach, forcing her to admit that she was, actually, rather eager to play her part in it.

She arched her neck against his hand and pondered, perhaps longer than she intended, before pulling away to look at him. He had never looked so handsome!

But before she could say anything, he pulled away with a wistful smile and ran a gentle finger across her cheek. "Ah. I see. Well, I understand, of course. I'll see you in the morning, darling," and then, with a chaste kiss on her forehead, he was gone, leaving Maria gaping in disbelief at what had just happened.

The next morning, after a sleepless night, Maria came downstairs for a very late breakfast to find Max Detweiler enjoying a third cup of coffee. Although she didn't know the reason for his sudden return from Vienna, she welcomed him warmly. As the day wore on, though, it became apparent that he was intent on making a pest of himself. He did not leave them alone for more than a minute, turning up at the most inconvenient times, accompanying them to a concert, joining them for dinner.

Finally, when Max went to the men's room, Maria was able to hiss, "Georg? What is Max doing?"

"I asked him to chaperone us."

" _What?"_

"I asked him to serve as our chaperone. To stay with us until the wedding. To keep us from," he cleared his throat, "misbehaving. Any more than we already have, that is."

"But I don't want to stop," she blushed, "I mean, just last night, weren't you the one who wanted us to-"

Georg sighed deeply. "I don't want to stop either. I admit it. But that's the problem, you see. I can't keep my hands off of you, it seems. I'm not going to apologize for what I did last night, or all the other nights, for that matter. But I'm too old to be carrying on in the back seats of cars. It's vulgar," he said distastefully, "and exhausting as well. I respect your decision, of course, but this way neither one of us has to wrestle with temptation any longer."

And just like that, Maria's life had changed, from days full of breathless anticipation and nights awash in dizzying sensation, to having nothing more exciting to look forward to than days spent learning the linen closets, choosing a monogram for four _hundred_ wedding invitations, and intermittent battles with her stepchildren to be. Now all she had to fill her nights were dreams about her Captain, vivid, shameful dreams from which she awoke trembling with unfulfilled desire. That moment's hesitation on the landing had cost her dearly, and she felt her regret as a nearly physical ache.

As the days went by, Georg was perfectly polite and attentive. He offered affectionate kisses on the cheek and the odd squeeze of a hand, but the long hours of kissing and more faded into wistful memory, and the spark had gone out of his eyes. Suddenly, he became madly active, his life packed with business and leisure activities. He'd even taken to playing tennis, two long hours of practice and games every day, and twice that on weekends.

Every time Georg kissed her cheek, or worse, her hand – as though they'd landed in a nineteenth-century novel, for heaven's sake – Maria wondered what would have happened if she'd been quicker with her response. Why must she always be late for _everything_? And there would be no second chance, or even an opportunity to discuss the matter, because she was far too timid to introduce the topic in their rare moments without Max. Once or twice, she'd practiced in the privacy of her room, asking the mirror, "Darling? Remember the night you asked me to – ehrm – when you told me you wanted to – ehrm," but then, cheeks burning with mortification, she'd abandoned the effort.

She couldn't be angry at Max, though. The maddening situation wasn't his fault, and anyway, he was too charming to resist, so much so that she occasionally forgot the reason for his presence. As the weeks of his visit went by, he kept the children entertained, played the piano and sang for the family almost every night, and had much more patience than did Georg for her seemingly endless wedding-related difficulties.

With the errant Lolly installed in the laundry, a peaceful week followed, if you didn't count the snake Kurt left in Maria's bathtub, or the pine cone she occasionally found on her chair, or worse, in her bed. After a prank involving salt in the sugar shaker, she alerted Georg to the situation, half-hoping he would threaten a return to uniforms and whistles, but he only laughed. "They're testing you, isn't that what you told me? When I was a new commander, the men tried all kinds of things on me," and Max had chimed in, "Remember the time…"

Maria shrugged away their disinterest. She refused to let anything interfere with her good mood today. Three weeks to go, and for better or for worse, the menu for the wedding breakfast was fixed so firmly that even Frau Schmidt couldn't change it. There was only one more round of fittings to endure. And so far, she'd kept up with thank-you letters for the wedding gifts that seemed to arrive by the truckload.

Planning the wedding had caused Maria headaches over matters she would never have even known about six months before. All those invitations! Georg had twenty years on her, and he well-known, too, with a large family that only underscored her orphan status. He even had a grandmother living in Vienna, although she was too frail to travel to the wedding. Then there were fittings for the new clothing piling up in the huge trunk that stood in the corner of her bedroom. And a wedding breakfast that would very nearly eclipse the ceremony in splendor.

She often thought back longingly to that first evening in the gazebo, and how readily they had agreed on the simplest, quickest wedding possible. The next morning, however, when they told the children their good news, Maria began to waver. The girls had been grievously disappointed, filling the house with their pleas for an elaborate wedding. The discrepancies between Georg's family situation and her own became more apparent, and Maria realized that marrying at Nonnberg Abbey was the only way her "family" would be part of the proceedings, even if they had to observe from behind the cloister's gate. And of course, Maria wasn't entirely immune to the romantic promise of a long white dress and a veil.

"Whatever makes you happy, darling," Georg had told her. He'd been so generous and understanding, even though he'd already had a lavish wedding. Now, with three weeks to go, Maria was no longer sure she wanted the wedding she'd signed on for, either, but there was no turning back now. Although he hadn't once complained, or worse, thrown her decision back in her face, she couldn't bring herself to ask him for help, or admit her misgivings. She had gotten them deep into a situation she regretted, and she'd have to get them out of it, too, without the help of her now-turncoat stepchildren and oblivious fiancé. Three weeks. You could survive anything for three weeks, couldn't you?

Maria gave herself the treat of a lovely day in Salzburg, taking tea with the Reverend Mother and doing a bit of trousseau shopping. The brown paper packages filled with wicked scraps of satin and lace were practically burning a hole in her bag when she returned to the villa in time for dinner, where she found Frau Schmidt lying in wait.

Speaking of holes being burnt, it turned out that Lolly was not quite working out in the laundry. She'd ruined four of Georg's shirts and Brigitta's school uniform, and the guest room sheets would need replacing before the family guests arrived for the wedding. "She can serve in the dining room," the housekeeper suggested, and Maria knew perfectly well this was her penance, aristocrat-in-training or not.

"Attention, everyone," Maria announced at breakfast the next day. "This is Lolly. Lolly is going to be helping us at breakfast time! Let's make her feel welcome, shall we?" The request was met with disinterest from the children, other than Marta's shy wave. Max offered a friendly greeting, but Georg didn't even bother to come out from behind his paper. "Lolly," Maria plowed on determinedly, "was it you that made these breakfast scones? They are simply delicious!"

"May I have another one, Mother?" Gretl asked.

"You can't call her 'Mother,'" Brigitta snapped. "Not for another twenty days, anyway. And she's not your real mother, either."

Gretl's lip trembled ominously, and Maria steeled herself against the hurt feelings that welled up inside. Could it really have only been a few weeks ago that Brigitta had clung to her with utter and complete devotion?

"We've talked about this, Brigitta, remember? No one wants you children to forget your mother in heaven. She loved all of you very much, and your father, too. I am very honored that he asked me to be your mother here on earth. For those of you who can remember her, it is simply going to be a little different than it is for the younger ones. It's not going to harm anyone whether I'm called Mother now or three weeks from now and no, Louisa," she turned toward the girl, knowing what was coming next, "you may not call me 'Maria.'" She looked toward Georg's paper, hoping for reinforcements, but he didn't emerge from behind his newspaper.

By the next morning, things had taken turn for the better. Over breakfast, there were reminiscences of summer mountain picnics and plans for Christmas. Friedrich asked for her help with his Latin homework; Liesl asked her advice about a new belt, and Georg-

"Good morning, Lolly!" Georg exclaimed, smiling expansively. His usual newspaper was nowhere to be seen. "Tell me, are you responsible for these pastries? They are quite delectable!"

Maria blinked, astonished. Georg was usually quite cross in the mornings, and he wasn't the type to call anything 'delectable,' except maybe a warship. Grinning at the confusion on Maria's face, he waited until a blushing Lolly mumbled her thanks and left the room before asking, innocently, "Didn't you _want_ us to make her feel welcome?"

"Well, yes, darling, of course," Maria answered, as he kissed her on the forehead and went off to tennis practice, leaving her to think back resentfully at the way he'd found fault with her in her early days at the villa, his face tight with disapproval at every meal. Perhaps love had made Georg a more generous person, Maria told herself, resolving to remain open-hearted in return.

So Maria could only be amused to find Lolly in the kitchen later that afternoon, hovering over a pan of freshly baked cookies.

"Are those for the children?"

"Heavens, no!" the girl retorted. "They're a special kind of cookie from Italy. My grandmother used to make them. Liesl told me that Captain von Trapp's grandmother was also Italian, and I thought that he might – I made them for him."

"Ah. I see," was all Maria said, but she smiled to herself. So little Lolly had a crush on the Captain. It wouldn't be the first time, Maria thought wryly, and then found herself distracted by a letter from Georg's cousin Anna who was bringing her daughters to the wedding after all, and of course they _would_ all be the most comfortable staying at the villa. Maria closed her eyes and tried to count guest rooms.

That night, she dreamed that it was early days, again. There was no Max Detweiler in this dream, only Maria, sprawled across Georg's lap as he settled into the big chair behind his desk and pulled her close. There was the rough scrape of his cheek, and then his mouth found hers. Fire danced in her veins as she began to squirm against him, and he grew hard and urgent beneath her. But when she reached up to tangle her hands in his hair, instead of flesh-and-blood, her palm found only the cold, lifeless marble of a statue.

Her Captain had suddenly turned to stone.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 **This story goes out with several belated-birthday hugs and lots of love to my very first TSOM pal from long-ago, lemacd. She gave me the prompt for this story, because angst.**

 **I wrote big parts of this story over Thanksgiving weekend in the US, when the media was full of advice about how to avoid political arguments at the holiday table. I am happy to report that the happy conversation at our table, among Republicans and Democrats, conservatives and liberals, old folks and young, blacks and whites, gays and straights, Jews and Christians, revolved around our shared love for guess what movie? Anyway, thanks for reading this story and please leave me a review! Don't own TSOM** **or anything about it, all for love.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Maria awoke to torrential rain, and an unseasonable chill in the air. She dragged herself through the children's morning routine, forcing herself to be cheerful even though the boys were especially difficult, as was Franz when she asked him to drive them to school. She was still in her dressing gown when the noisy mob departed at last, leaving her free to return to her room to bathe, dress, and cheer herself up with a quick check on the contents of her honeymoon trunk. It was consoling, somehow, to run her hands over the beautiful new things she'd chosen for their honeymoon, delicate confections of silk and lace.

Fighting the urge to climb back into bed with a good book, she went to the armoire to choose today's outfit. Her fingers lingered on the crisp white cotton of a favorite blouse, one with a wide, embroidered collar, a deep neckline, and a row of buttons down the front. That blouse had been Georg's favorite, too, in those first sweet days following their engagement.

"It's just like you. So innocent," he had murmured against her throat, his fingers flicking at the buttons, "until it isn't anymore." And then he had drawn her close and kissed her hungrily, until he let his mouth follow his fingers, down the column of her neck and lower.

She stood at the armoire, lost in the blissful memory of the wet heat of his mouth against her breast. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, and Maria threw it open to find Max, clutching his left cheek, which was swollen and red.

"Toothache," he mumbled. "Dentist."

Within the half hour, Max was in a taxi on his way to Salzburg, where the family's dentist was waiting for him, and Maria, cheeks pink above her white blouse, had interrupted Georg in his study, closing the door behind her.

Without looking up, he said, "Leave the door open, love, would you?"

"There no need for that," she said, trying to overcome her nerves and make her voice sound low and sultry. "Max has gone into town with a dental emergency. It reminds me of that story Gretl loves. The one about 'when the cat's away, the mice will play?'"

He looked up from his work and their eyes locked for a long moment. His gaze slid downward, and she felt herself flush everywhere his eyes landed.

"Maria," he murmured.

She felt dizzy. The big desk stood between them, and something hopeful fluttered deep in her belly as Georg rose to his feet. Her heart began to thump wildly against her ribs as he circled the desk that stood between them. He came up so close to her she could feel the familiar heat and scent of him, at least until he brushed by her and moved quickly to the door. For such a large man, she thought abstractedly, he moved awfully fast.

"Tennis," he said briefly.

"It's _raining_ , Georg," she snapped.

"I think the sky is clearing," he threw over his shoulder and disappeared through the door. Feeling foolish, she trotted after him into the foyer.

"Georg? Are you avoiding me?"

Sighing, he crossed his arms against his chest. "Of course not, darling. Don't be ridiculous! I've explained it to you. It's just not prudent for us to – look, it's not long until the wedding, now, is it?"

Maria opened her mouth to argue with him, but then she spotted something moving in the corner of her eye – it was Lolly, flicking a dust rag over a marble statue, eyes bright with interest at the conversation she was straining to overhear. The statue, Maria noticed, was of a man and a woman locked in a half-nude embrace.

Without another word to Georg, she turned, defeated, and returned to her room to change her blouse to something warmer and more sensible for a dreary day.

It was still raining a few days later, and with only two weeks to go until the wedding, a permanent headache seemed to have settled behind Maria's eyes, a headache that only got worse when Lolly entered the breakfast room. Instead of a somber gray uniform, the girl's bounteous, creamy-skinned bosom and round knees were on ample display in a soft-pink dress better suited for a party than serving tables. Her hair had been released from its usual neat braids and tumbled down her back in shining, golden curls.

"Friedrich, stop staring," Maria said sternly, not caring that she embarrassed the boy, and wishing she were brave enough to tell Georg the same thing. "And Lolly, where is your uniform?"

"I have the afternoon off," the girl said defensively, "and I just thought it would save me time, so I could make the earlier bus."

"The bus in this weather? Herr Detweiler and I are driving into Salzburg for lunch. We could give you a ride," Georg offered, as the girl handed him a second cup of tea. It wasn't all that unusual a gesture on his part – he'd often given Maria rides back to the Abbey in her governess days, and their little chats had only fueled her crush. Maria frowned. Perhaps she ought to speak to Georg-

"Oh, Captain," Lolly gushed, "that would be _lovely_."

"It's the least I can do for you," he chortled, "in return for those cookies. They were just like my grandmother's. Better, in fact! I'd forgotten how much I loved them."

He turned to Maria. "Don't forget, darling. We have the Mayor's reception tonight."

"Right. Lolly _. Lolly_?" Maria snapped at the girl, who was staring dreamily at the back of Georg's head while her serving tray tilted dangerously. "Will you be back by seven? Because it would be very helpful if you would help the younger children get to bed. Captain von Trapp and Herr Detweiler and I won't be back until quite late." Though she knew it was childish, Maria allowed herself to send a smug little smile Lolly's way as she swept from the dining room, chin up and shoulders back.

Later that afternoon, the skies brightened at last. Dressing for the reception, Maria considered herself in the mirror. She could scarcely believe how lucky she was to own a gown like this, an elegant swath of indigo velvet with a daringly low back. And there were another half-dozen like it, that now hung in the armoire. Her days of homemade dresses were behind her for good. And yet – she examined herself in the mirror – she still looked like a governess, somehow. Perhaps it was her practical hairstyle? She wondered if she ought to grow it out; when she was a girl, it had fallen to her waist in long, bright curls.

The whole evening had a magical quality to it that matched the dress. By the time she returned home later that night, Maria was overcome with remorse at the unkind thoughts she'd had about Lolly. She was only a harmless servant girl, after all. Lolly wasn't lucky enough to be living in a fairy tale the way she was, sweeping back into the villa with two handsome men in evening clothes after a wonderful evening at the Mayor's reception.

There had been endless glasses of champagne, beautiful music, delicious food, and dozens of kind people crowding around her and wishing her the best. The Mayor's son had waltzed with her, but even better, when he approached her for a second waltz, Georg cut in, his eyes dark and mouth drawn into a thin line. He waltzed her away from the crowd and into a quiet hallway, far from Max's prying eyes, where he'd backed her against the wall, planted his hands on either side of her head, and kissed her so thoroughly that her knees had buckled. When he reached to steady her, his hand burned like a brand into the bare skin of her back.

No, it had been better than a fairy tale.

"You go ahead," she nodded to the two men standing outside the salon. "I'll be down shortly, after I check on the children."

"Mother?" Marta stirred when Maria straightened out her tangled quilt.

"Yes, sweetheart. I'm here now. Go back to sleep."

"Wait. I have something I need to tell you," the girl asked. .

Maria gathered the sweet child into a little bundle on her lap. There had been precious few cuddles lately. "What is it, Marta darling?"

"Lolly knows the do re mi song," Marta said drowsily.

"That's lovely, Marta." Maria gently lifted the girl from her lap and back under the covers.

"…and _she_ doesn't mind singing it a hundred times in a row," Marta added in a sleepy, but clear, rebuke.

She found Liesl and Louisa still awake, and entertaining a visitor: Lolly, still in her unsuitable outfit, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling.

"I don't know why they call it _French_ kissing," Lolly was saying. "Because everyone does it, you know."

"Girls! _Lolly!_ " Maria interrupted sharply, watching as the girls pasted identical expressions of sullen nonchalance over their initial guilty, embarrassed reactions. She sent Lolly off to bed, promising a further discussion tomorrow, and steeled herself for the back-talk that followed from Liesl and Louisa.

"I don't want you girls exposed to that kind of talk. The love between a man and a woman is holy, and what happens between them – _after_ they are properly married, by the way - is private."

"We didn't do anything wrong. We were just curious," Liesl argued. "I'm going on seventeen years old! I'm totally unprepared to go out into the world. I don't know _anything_. Isn't it better to understand – ehrm – things, than find out about them from the fellows I meet?"

"If you have questions, why don't you ask me?" Maria said, trying not to think of the summer nights when these two girls had crowded into her bed, anxious to share their confidences.

"But _you_ aren't going to be able to tell us anything," Louisa broke in. "How would you know?"

Maria's face grew hot with mortification, recalling that she hadn't actually known very much about kissing herself, not until a couple of months ago. Not to mention that she'd been very nearly willing to give herself to a man without benefit of marriage, while his children slept just down the hall.

"You should be kinder to Lolly, you know," Liesl said in a maddeningly superior tone. "She's an orphan, like you were, and she's in love with someone who loves her back, and it's all quite tragic, because today, he told her that he can't-"

Maria was so irritated – _she_ was the one who'd earned Lolly a second chance! – that it took her a moment to realize what Liesl had said.

"Do you mean to tell me that Lolly is still seeing Hans? That miserable excuse for a man?" This was a serious matter, and she was truthfully somewhat relieved to bring her argument with the girls to an end and go in search of Georg.

Back downstairs, Maria was just outside the salon, close enough to hear Georg and Max in conversation, when she heard something surprising that made her stop short.

"That little girl who served us breakfast? Max was asking. "Where is she from, anyway? I knew a stripper named Lolly once. An Irish girl, with red hair, and the biggest, sweetest-"

Georg laughed. "That's just the girl's nickname. Her real name is Lorelei."

Maria startled. _Lorelei?_ How was it that Georg had this bit of information, and she didn't?

She could hear Max slide the piano bench into place and begin picking mindlessly at the keys. "O-ho, Georg, you'd better be careful!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Max."

"Lorelei? The siren who lured sailors to their ruin?"

Georg cackled wickedly, a sound that made Maria's stomach lurch.

At the piano, Max launched into a raucous ballad, performed in a trembling falsetto:

Back in the days of knights and armour,

There once lived a lovely charmer;

Swimming in the Rhine,

Her figure was divine!

She had a yen for all the sailors,

Fishermen and gobs and whalers;

She had a most immoral eye,

They called her Lorelei.

She created quite a stir,

And I want to be like her!

I want to be like the gal on the river

Who sang her songs to the ships passing by;

She had the goods and how she could deliver,

The Lorelei!

She used to love in a strange kind of fashion,

With lots of "hey, ho-de-ho, hi-de-hi!",

And I can guarantee I'm full of passion,

Like the Lorelei!

Oh I'm treacherous,

And I just can't hold myself in check!

And I'm lecherous,

I wanna bite my initials on a sailor's neck!

And each affair has a kick and a wallop,

For what they crave I can always supply!

I wanna be like that other trollop

Called the Lorelei!

Max finished his performance with a flourish, and then the two men became so preoccupied with ice and glasses and whiskey that they didn't see Maria standing silently in the doorway.

"Seriously, Georg, you ought to be careful," Max warned. That little blonde has a ferocious crush on you, it's plain to see."

"It wouldn't be the first time," Georg said with a careless smile, clinking his glass against Max's. Only then could Maria find her voice.

"No," she said from the doorway. "No, it wouldn't be the first time, would it?"

The thing of it was, that he didn't seem the least bit embarrassed, or sorry for what he'd said. "I suppose not," he said smoothly, kissing her cheek. "Now, love, would you like a drink? Just one, though, and then I've got to get to bed. An early tennis game tomorrow."

Maria went to bed that night hurt and angry. It seemed like the closer the wedding grew, the more she longed for Georg, and yet the more distant he became, with his tennis games and chaste kisses. The euphoria she'd experienced when he'd kissed her senseless just hours earlier had dissolved, leaving only misery behind. She thought back to the first week of their engagement, counting off the memorable nights like beads on a string. That night on the blanket under the stars, lying with arms and legs entwined. The rainy evening in the study when he had-

She awoke the next morning resolved to set things straight with Lolly, on matters of her wardrobe and her familiar relationship with the girls, as soon as breakfast was over and the family had dispersed. But then Frau Schmidt waylaid her with a question about the redecoration of the master suite, which was intended to be completed by the time they returned from Paris.

"I'm sure the old drapes will be just fine," Maria said wearily.

"Surely you recall how masculine the décor is in there?" Frau Schmidt retorted. Maria felt her cheeks turn red. She'd visited Georg's rooms only once, on her post-engagement tour of the villa with the elderly housekeeper, but it was impossible to forget the invitation he'd extended to her the night before Max Detweiler's arrival changed everything.

"It simply won't do for a young bride," Frau Schmidt was saying. "Here, take these samples, and take them upstairs where you can see them in the light, and let me know what you choose."

So Maria obediently trudged upstairs, Lolly temporarily forgotten, at least until she pushed open the big double doors to Georg's rooms. She heard the girl before she found her. There was no mistaking the soft crooning,

"Edelweiss, Edelweiss,

Every morning you greet me

Small and white

Clean and bright

You look happy to-

"Lolly! What are you doing in the Captain's dressing room?"

Lolly whirled around, a garment in her hands. "I'm putting away his laundry, Fraulein Maria."

"But you don't work in the laundry anymore," Maria said.

"I-I'm helping Millie."

"Then where is the laundry basket, Lolly?"

"I-"

"And what's that you've got there?" Maria drew closer. "Oh, dear God. You're pinching the Captain's jumper?"

"I'm not pinching it! I'm just-"

"For heaven's sake, Lolly! The Captain was kind enough to give you a second chance in a very serious situation. I personally went out on a limb for you, and this is how you repay us?"

Lolly didn't manage to look the least bit penitent; instead, eyes flashing and with a wiggle of her hips, she said coolly, "Captain von Trapp doesn't have a problem with me."

"He will if he knows you're rummaging through his things," Maria warned, surprising herself at the cold, harsh edge in her voice. What had happened to yesterday's charitable feelings?

"Look, Lolly," Maria began again, trying to soften her voice. "No one knows better than I do what it's like. To come from a home without love, or even security. That's why we made certain allowances for you. After what Hans did to you-"

"What he did to me?" Lolly said slowly. She looked down at her feet, tracing the carpet with the toe of her shoe, as though considering her next move. Then she lifted her chin and said defiantly, "Hans didn't do anything to me that I didn't do back to him. We did it together, if you get my meaning."

"But," Maria gasped, "You said you didn't do – _that_. You told me-"

"Well of course, I told you that." The girl stretched her hands above her head, a long, leisurely, cat-like stretch. "What else was I going to say? You couldn't possibly understand."

Maria was the lady of the house now, and it was neither necessary nor desirable for her to defend herself, but her regrettable temper got the best of her, and the words flew from her lips before she could consider them: "I understand perfectly well, Lolly. I'm not very much older than you. I'm in love myself, and engaged to be married! But there's a difference between giving yourself to a man who's already spoken for, and falling in love with someone who can love you back."

"Does he?"

Maria frowned. "Does who what?"

"Does Captain von Trapp love you back? He certainly doesn't act like it. I mean, he _is_ awfully nice to all the help, I'll give you that, but-"

Maria was speechless, and dizzy with rage and sorrow and something else she didn't want to think about too much. Hands on hips, she forced herself to stare the girl down.

"Lolly! You will pack your bags this instant and return to-" But then Maria hesitated. If the girl couldn't stay here at the villa, where would she go?

That moment's hesitation was just enough to allow Lolly a near-miraculous transformation. The saucy grin disappeared and her eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, please don't do that, Fraulein Maria! Please don't send me away! I should have told you the truth, but I knew you wouldn't like it," she buried her face in her hands and began to weep. "I-I am _so_ sorry, Fraulein. I- I know how much I owe you. How grateful I should be to you. I should never have – oh, please forgive me, please? I know it was wrong, what I did, but I missed Hans _so_ much!"

Suddenly, Maria was exhausted, worn to the bone by everything that had happened to her in the last few months, even the happy parts. She felt like weeping herself. If she let the girl go now, she'd have to admit to Georg – and Frau Schmidt, and everyone – what a grievous error in judgement she'd made. It didn't say much about the new Baroness von Trapp-to-be that she'd been taken in by an empty-headed girl, a mountain girl not that different from herself. Perhaps the situation could wait until after the wedding. After Paris. She didn't let herself think about what the girl had said about Georg.

" _He certainly doesn't act like it. I mean, he_ is _awfully nice to all the help, I'll give you that, but-"_

"Lolly," Maria said severely. "I want to forgive you, but you must promise me that you are not going to see Hans anymore."

As soon as the girl vanished down the back stairs with a few teary promises and an odd little curtsy or two, Maria did the only thing she could think of: she ran.

She ran, the way she had run from her uncle's when the suffering grew too great to bear. The way she had run from the Abbey when her life there was overwhelming. The way she had run from the villa, the night of the party. She didn't quite know where she was running to, not until she got there. And when she arrived at the gazebo, she found Max Detweiler, nibbling at a bunch of grapes while lost in a novel. When he looked up and greeted her with a delighted smile, she burst into tears.

"What _is_ the matter, Maria?" he asked sympathetically, handing her a big white handkerchief.

"Oh, it's just," she pressed her palms to her forehead, "everything, you know. The wedding and the house, and, well, you know," she finished shakily.

"I see."

"Max? Can I ask you something?" Maria looked up to study Max's face. "What did Georg say, exactly, when he asked you to come back here?"

"You know the reason already, Maria dear. He wanted to avoid scandal, to keep things between the two of you-"

"I know the reason why," she interrupted. "But what did he say, exactly?" Somehow, she felt that there might be some missing piece that would reassure her.

"Exactly? I'm sure I don't recall," Max said, smoothing his mustache. "But I can tell you something you ought to know." He took her hand and led her to one of the stone benches, where he seated himself next to her and kept hold of her hand.

"What I _can_ tell you is that I have known Georg since we were sixteen. I've seen him in battle, in love, in grief. I don't know that I've ever seen him this happy, Maria, and you are responsible for that. _You_."

She wiped her face with Max's handkerchief before returning it to him.

"Of course he was this happy before, Max. He was married before," she said gloomily.

"Y-yes," Max tilted his head thoughtfully. "Georg did love Agathe very much. They were very happy together, but it was the kind of happiness young people think they're entitled to. You are too young to understand that there is something – something profound, about happiness that comes after a very great loss, after a time when you grieve so deeply you think you will never be happy again. I don't always understand Georg, and I don't always agree with him when I do understand him, but make no mistake about it, Maria dear. He loves you."

She sighed. "He doesn't always act like it. I mean, he's perfectly sweet. Kind, and considerate, and all that. But in other ways - we're not even married yet, and he's already tired of me! Why, he is friendlier to that little housemaid than he is to me!"

Max snorted. "Lorelei?"

"Yes," Maria said bitterly, "she's got quite a crush on him, and I think Georg enjoys it."

"Of course he does! She is quite attractive, you know. He would hardly be a man if he didn't – but Maria, surely you don't think Georg has feelings for this girl?"

Maria hung her head. "I suppose not," she said in a low voice. How could she explain it to Max? She could easily have been intimidated by everything that came along with marrying Georg. But his hunger for her, and the intimacies they had shared in that first precious week, had fueled her confidence, giving her hope that she would be able to fit into his elegant and accomplished world. But now, hopelessness had replaced hope. She felt miles away from Georg, as though none of it – the Edelweiss, the Laendler, the gazebo – had happened.

"The night of the reception, when I came upon you and Georg in the hallway, it certainly didn't _seem_ like he'd lost interest in you," Max observed gently.

"Because he was jealous of the Mayor's son," Maria said. "What am I supposed to do? Keep his interest by flirting with Franz? Or Rolf the telegram boy? Or _you_?"

"Maria." Max tucked a finger under her chin and lifted her face so he could hold her gaze.

"You mean _everything_ to Georg. You are the Baroness von Trapp, or very nearly so. You sent Elsa Schrader and her little bags back to Vienna, have you forgotten that? Surely you're not going to let some little-"

"Temptress. Siren. That's what the two of you called her. While I am an impossibly wholesome girl with a practical haircut and no – ehrm," she glanced down at her slender figure, "no assets. I try, I really do, I even pray, but it's hopeless."

Max raised an eyebrow. "You strike me as more the fighting type than the quitting type, Maria. Or – no offense – the praying type, either."

More of the fighting type. Well, she was that. She'd been fighting all her life. Maria ruminated on Max's challenge, and a few nights later, long after the household had gone to sleep, she finally summoned the courage to execute her plan. She rummaged through the big trunk in the corner of her room, up to her elbows in silk and lace, pausing to ponder the merits of wicked black versus angelic white for a moment before making up her mind.

Creeping across the darkened villa, silk sliding against her skin, her heart pounded so loudly she was sure it would wake the household. Through the double doors and then,

"Who's there?"

"Shhh. Georg. It's me."

"Maria? What's wrong? The children?"

"Everyone is fine," she reassured him.

"Then what are you doing here?" he asked. When he turned on the light, his face was bleary with sleepy confusion, and then his eyes went wide with surprise.

"Maria," he said hoarsely. "What are you-"

"I'm trying out my trousseau," she whispered, struggling to keep her voice light. She was sure her heartbeat could be heard all the way back at Nonnberg.

"Maria," he started again, "y-you can't be in here. Not like that."

"Why not?" she said, taking a step toward the bed. His hair was appealingly mussed and he looked wickedly tempting in a half-buttoned pajama shirt. She tried not to notice him wince as she drew closer. "Weren't you the one who wanted to show me, Georg? The proper way a man loves a woman?"

"Maria. No. We've – I – not here. Not now. Not like this…" his voice trailed off.

Before she could muster a response, there was a knock on the door.

"Georg?"

"Max? _Max_!" Georg repeated loudly. "What do you want?"

"Are you all right in there, Georg? I was just walking by, and I thought I heard-"

"Maria," Georg hissed. "In the bathroom. _Now_!" He sprang out of bed, giving her a tempting glimpse of bare skin, but he shooed her into the bathroom before she could see more. She huddled against the cold porcelain rim of the bathtub, hearing the double doors to the suite swing open.

"It's nothing, Max. A bad dream. You know how it is," she heard Georg say.

"Are you sure?" Max asked doubtfully.

A few more moments' quiet conversation, the doors closed again, and then Georg was standing in the doorway to the bathroom. He'd wrapped himself in a dressing gown, and when he snapped the bright light on, his unshaven face was pale and taut with tension.

"Maria. Darling. Go back to bed, and let's forget this ever happened, shall we? The wedding is not so very far off, only ten days or so."

"But Georg! Don't you want us to – don't you want me?"

"Of course I do," he said gently. "You know that. But not now. Not this way. Don't think I'm not grateful, because I am."

" _Grateful?"_ Her face burned with humiliation. This had been a terrible mistake, she knew it, and she was only more certain the next morning, when Georg refused to meet her eyes at all. It would have much better, she saw now, to play hard to get. She wouldn't make that mistake again.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 **Thanks for the lovely reviews (although I didn't quite get the one that demanded to know what this story is going to be about - isn't it your job to find out? It would be a very short story indeed if I told you all of that up front!) I know there's a lot going on here, but hopefully it will all come together in the end. Interesting how many people worry that Georg will be tempted by Lorelei. Will he or won't he? You'll have to wait and see.**

 **And now a word about the song Max sings in this chapter: From the start, I knew I would name the troublesome character in this story after Lemacd, who gave me the prompt for it. Lorelei is a German name, close enough to L's RL name, and the siren angle fits the plot perfectly, with Lolly as a nickname to delay the reveal. Only after I'd chosen her name did I come across the song, which is not one George Gershwin is remembered for, I'll admit, but he really did write it!**

 **Don't own, all for love.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

And then it was Sunday: only six days left before the wedding. Already, the villa was filling with Georg's family, who greeted Maria warmly, with cries of delight, and then fell to cataloging all the things that had changed since their last visits to the villa, and most of them not for the better.

Maria was left to escort their guests to church, along with the children. Georg never went to church, something that Maria had struggled with for weeks, but she was trying to follow Reverend Mother's advice on the matter: "The Lord will see to that in his own good time, Maria."

When she returned home, she was so busy directing their guests to Sunday dinner that she hadn't even put down her things when she noticed Georg standing in a corner of the foyer, deep in conversation with Lolly. The girl's cheeks were flushed pink and Georg was unusually animated.

"Georg?"

"One moment," he gestured impatiently, "If you wouldn't mind, Maria."

"I would mind," she muttered, and then repeated herself more loudly, "I _do_ mind, as it happens, Georg. May I speak to you? Privately?" she added pointedly.

Maria watched with horror as he made a courteous little bow toward the girl.

"Lolly. Please excuse me for a moment, would you? And don't go anywhere, do you hear me? I'll only be a moment, and the car will be around for us shortly."

Georg turned back to her, his eyes steely and his mouth drawn into a thin, disapproving line. This was a Captain she hadn't seen since their argument by the lake. Her throat closed, and although his harsh expression quickly faded, she was barely able to answer him when he said, "Now. Maria. What, exactly, is so urgent that it requires my immediate attention?"

"It's about Marta." Maria instantly regretted her starting point – a very bad place to start, given Georg's soft spot for the girl. "Marta was terribly disrespectful to your cousin today, and Kurt made rude noises the whole time we were in church. Brigitta and Louisa were reading magazines! This has got to stop. It's gone beyond testing me, as though I were just another governess. I think they've changed their minds about me, and, believe me, I'm starting to change my mind about them."

But all Georg had to offer was an infuriating chuckle. "We've been through all of this, Maria. There's nothing wrong with the children. Or nothing that time and a little extra attention won't fix. You have a lot on your mind, what with all these absurd wedding preparations-"

"Absurd? I thought we agreed to do it this way! And I'm the one who's paid the price for it. We should just have eloped. It would not have mattered on my side of the aisle, not one bit."

"We'll talk about it later," he said, turning away from her.

"I am not finished yet!" Maria fumed.

"Well, whatever else you have to say will have to wait until tonight. I'm otherwise occupied at the moment. As you can see." He inclined his head toward where Lolly stood in the doorway, listening avidly for any scrap of their conversation she could glean.

"Why? Where are you going?"

When Georg shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at his shoes, Maria's heart climbed straight up into her throat.

"I have – an errand to do. I'll be gone until tonight, I'm afraid, and I don't have time to explain the rest of it to you now." Maria watched as he motioned Lolly out the front door.

"Georg! You're leaving me here with your children, and a houseful of your relatives,-" she narrowed her eyes- "while you go off somewhere with _Lolly_? Where _are_ you going?"

"It's none of your concern. You have enough to worry about with the wedding, darling. I'll tell you all about it tonight," he said soothingly.

"Captain?" Lolly trilled from the doorway. "Our car is here!"

"None of my concern? None of my _concern_?" Maria hissed. "Of course it's my concern. She has a ferocious crush on you-"

He waved her words away. "What of it? You had a crush on me, as I recall."

"Exactly!"

"You can't be serious, Maria. When two people talk of marriage - do you mean to tell me that you don't trust me? What you and I have together has nothing to do with -"

"What exactly _do_ we have together, Georg? Every week that goes by, you grow more and more distant from me. I realize that there's nothing more irresistible to a man than a woman who's in love with him, but that girl-"

"If you don't know the difference between a harmless crush – a one- _sided_ crush, I might add, Maria - and what it means to love someone, to want to marry-" he paused, clearly struggling to control his temper. "Perhaps you and I do not share an understanding of what marriage means. Because in my _experience,_ " he broke off, but she saw the pain flash across his face, and knew he was thinking of Agathe. Within a moment, he had recovered his composure, and his voice was deadly, deceptively calm when he asked, "Just why _do_ you think I'm marrying you, Maria?"

 _Run._

"I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know why you're marrying me. I thought I did, but now I'm not so sure. There are times I don't believe I know you anymore. I do know you don't want me anymore, although I don't know why."

 _Run, Maria. Run._

The impulse was irresistible. She had to get away, far away, before he told her something that she could not bear to hear. The gazebo wouldn't be far enough, not with the grounds crowded with Georg's family. Still clutching her bag, she moved fast, breaking into a run when she heard him call her name.

"Maria! Maria! Come back here at once! Maria – Max? Max, where the hell are you? I need – Maria!"

The villa, like Nonnberg Abbey, put a formidable gate between you and the world, but Maria knew the back way out, past the stables, through the woods and along the lake, to the main road. There was no point in going to the Abbey. They'd just send her back to the villa with pronouncements about God's will. No, there was only one place to go, only one place that offered her heart healing and solace.

Maria made the trip in a daze. She hadn't done it alone, not since beginning her new life as a governess, but she knew the route with her eyes closed: the bus to the little train, the little train to the end of the line, and a half-hour's hike along the creek bed to the big meadow where she had romped with the children all those months ago. Today's trip was long and especially uncomfortable in her silk church dress, thin jumper and elegant shoes.

By the time Maria arrived at her favorite meadow, the tears were sliding down her cheeks, and so she flung herself to the ground and let herself weep without restraint, until she had cried herself out and fell into an uneasy sleep, head pillowed on her bag. When she awoke, she sat slumped against a tree and watched the clouds move across the sky, straining to remember the days when she danced joyfully across this very meadow. Those days were lost to her forever, but she didn't know what lay ahead instead.

She waited until the last possible moment, until the first star was out and the dark-green shadows grew long, to stumble though the darkness toward the little train station for the descent back into town. The conductor nodded vaguely at her, but he obviously didn't recognize her as the optimistic girl, brimming with hope and good cheer, the girl she'd been on those long-ago occasions when she'd escaped the Abbey for the hills. There wasn't anything of that girl left for him to recognize, Maria thought.

Once at the bus depot, she sat for another hour, watching one bus after another pull away, because she didn't know where, exactly, to go. She couldn't go back to the Abbey _o_ r the villa. Neither place really wanted her back.

"Oh, stop it, you foolish girl," she chided herself, willing away the tide of self-pity that threatened to overtake her. A brisk walk by the river might clear her head, she thought, and so she started out in that direction. A thick layer of clouds hid the stars and moon and made the night seem especially unwelcoming, as did the spears of cold night air that found their way beneath her light jumper and silky dress. Back when she used to run away from the Abbey, her wimple and heavy black uniform had protected her from the elements. What was there to protect her now?

Maria hastened her pace, as though she could outrun her misery, not to mention the growing unease she felt down by the river, where few people tarried into the evening. The only sound was one lonely pair of footsteps nearby, someone moving rapidly, someone with a place he belonged and wanted to get back to. She began to climb up onto one of the bridges, where a gust of wind made her shiver. A few wrong steps, another strong gust, and she could easily stumble over the low railing, and be swept away into the rushing water below.

How long would it take before anyone noticed she was missing?

"Stop this silliness at once!" she told herself. Georg had loved her, she was sure of it. So had the children. And despite her failure to deserve it, the sisters at Nonnberg had loved her too. And God's love was everywhere. For the first time, Maria let herself contemplate the unthinkable: if the worst happened, and she wasn't intended to marry Georg after all, surely Reverend Mother would take her back. Perhaps that _had_ been the life she had been meant to live, after all.

Behind her, the following footsteps grew more urgent. Her heart began to pound with terror and exertion as she quickened her pace again, but the footsteps only grew closer.

Frantic with fear, she began to run.

"Wait!"

Maria turned toward that voice instinctively, and the next moment she was in his arms, her face pressed into the rough wool of his coat, his arms a secure shelter around her. Relief washed through her, and she had a thousand things to say, but she couldn't seem to speak around the lump in her throat. Instead, she relaxed against him, into the steady sound of his heart beat, his wordless murmurs of comfort and his face buried in her hair.

After several long minutes, Georg eased her away from him. In the dim light from the far-away banks of the river, his expression was unreadable.

"Don't say it," she blurted.

Georg raised an eyebrow.

"About how I always run away."

He shook his head. "I wasn't going to say that. Although you'd have made it easier if you'd gone back to the Abbey again. I've been searching for you for hours."

"And please don't say you told me so. About Lolly. Don't talk to me about her at all."

"I wasn't-"

"And please don't remind me that the wedding was my idea. And don't try to tell me about the children-"

"Maria. None of those things matter, not any more. No. I only have one thing left to say to you."

Her heart sank, and all around them, the world held its breath.

"Will you marry me, Maria?"

"You've already asked me that, remember?" she said forlornly. "In case you've forgotten, I said yes. The wedding isn't for six days, though. There's still time to change your mind."

"I am _never_ going to change my mind. And I'm not talking about six days' time. I'm talking about now."

"Now?"

"Tonight. I want us to be married tonight."

"I don't understand. People can't just get married any time and place they please."

"They can if they're me. Do you remember what the Mayor told you?"

Maria thought back to the Mayor's reception, which seemed a lifetime ago. Somewhere between glasses of champagne, and waltzes, the Mayor – Harald, Georg had called him – Harald had clapped Georg on the back, kissed her hand, and told her something she couldn't quite recall.

"Harald served under me, you know. I saved his life. Twice. There's nothing the man wouldn't do for me. With or without a license or the proper witnesses."

"But it's nearly the middle of the night!"

"He won't mind being awakened. I know, because - ehrm," and Georg had the good grace to at least try and appear embarrassed. "I might already have asked him."

Somewhere deep within, Maria felt something flutter, mild and tentative.

"It's a lovely idea," she said weakly, "but I don't really see what difference it will make. We'd just end up back at the villa afterward, with Max, and the children, and that girl."

"The girl is gone," Georg said firmly. "I sent her to Vienna, to work for my grandmother. Despite her infirmities, Grandmother runs a _very_ tight ship. Just what the girl needs," he laughed wickedly. "I had just broken the news to Lolly when you arrived home from church, in fact. She took the news so well that I felt certain she was planning to give us the slip and make her way back to that despicable boyfriend of hers, so I planned to deliver her to Vienna myself. But then – well, I needed to come after you, and make some other arrangements, so Max is escorting her to Vienna in my place."

He reached for her hand. "And anyway, I'm not taking you home afterward. There's a small inn I know, just outside the city. One can rent out the entire establishment, leaving no room for other guests. Upstairs, it's like being in a treehouse, a luxurious treehouse, with a big fireplace and a balcony. Plenty of windows to let in the sun, and an enormous bed," he cleared his throat. "The owner leaves meals outside the door and he's promised us complete privacy."

"He's promised us?"

Georg reached into his pocket and retrieved an ornate brass key.

"I might already have talked to him too."

"But – we can't just run away! We've got a houseful of your family already, for one thing."

"All of whom will understand if my bride decides to spend a few of her very last nights as an innocent young woman, deep in spiritual reflection. And what better place for it than Nonnberg Abbey, where she was once a postulant? As I've got a last bit of business to transact in Innsbruck, it only made sense for me to drop you there on my way."

The flutter strengthened into a definitely more agreeable sensation that only grew warmer when he grinned.

"You're using Nonnberg Abbey as a beard, Georg?"

"I'll do penance later," he promised.

"But the wedding!"

"The wedding will go on as planned. No one needs to know besides the two of us."

"Max will figure it out," she warned.

"I suspect he will, but he knows his work with us is almost done. And after what he's put us through, he deserves to spend the next three days entertaining the children, and my family."

Had she heard him right?

"Three _days_?"

He leaned forward, and the smile faded from his face.

"Maria," he said passionately. "Please. Trust me. It has to happen this way, because I can't – no. I can't explain why, not right now, but I promise you that you'll understand when-"

This time, Maria wasn't going to hesitate.

"Yes. _Yes_." she repeated, lifting her face for the kiss that, this time, she knew was waiting for her.

It wasn't a desperate kiss, like the one the night of the Mayor's reception, but rather a kiss full of tender promise, like the first kiss they'd shared in the gazebo. His mouth grazed her forehead, her eyes, the tip of her nose, but then a fierce gust of wind from the river whipped at her skirts and sent Georg's hat flying off into the night, and they laughed together as he tucked her arm under his and led her off the bridge.

The next hour flew by in a blur. The Mayor and his yawning wife wore matching, bright-red flannel robes that fairly glowed in the dim light of the cluttered study. There was no sign of the mayor's son, only a ginger cat who leapt silently from desk to bookshelf to armchair and back again.

Georg's hands clutched hers reassuringly as they said their vows, although she was so conscious of the need for secrecy that she kept her voice to a whisper.

"Maria, dear," the Mayor said with a wink, "it won't be legal if I can't hear your answers."

Georg fumbled his vows as well, promising to make her his _life,_ rather than his _wife_ , although he claimed the slip was intentional and just as accurate. For the one with all the experience, Maria thought, he seemed awfully nervous.

Max had the real rings back at the villa, of course, but a bit of ribbon tied around her finger sufficed. The mayor launched into some rambling remarks about the happy state of marriage, but Georg cut him off with reasonable courtesy.

"Thank you, Harald. I think Maria and I had best be on our way."

As he drove them up into the mountains, a chilly autumn wind blew the clouds away until she could see the moon's silver smear and a dark sky, sprinkled with stars. They maintained an expectant silence until he had followed a small, unpaved road to where it ended, outside a cozy building that sat nestled in a grove of tall pines. Lanterns by the door and lamps in the windows glowed a golden welcome, as did the wide front door, painted a cheerful canary yellow.

When Georg turned off the engine, he made no move to get out, and for one doubtful moment, Maria thought he was going to reach for her and they'd spend the night necking in the car, as they had during the first nights of their engagement. But then he cleared his throat. She'd never seen him this nervous, not since that first night in the gazebo, anyway.

"Maria. I've been utterly unfair to you," he began.

"No, no." she protested. "I know that what we feel for each other is more than a silly crush. And I _do_ trust you, Georg, of course I do. You're the most honorable man I know! It's just that – oh, Georg, try to understand. That first week we were engaged, the way you – ehrm - _wanted_ me so much," and she felt her face flush with heat, "it gave me confidence. You made me believe I could do anything. Become a baroness and mistress of a villa. Become a mother to another woman's children. And even," she surprised herself with what came out of her mouth next, "become someone's second wife."

"Maria, darling-" he interrupted, but she motioned him into silence. "When you invited Max to stay, I _know_ you meant well, to protect me, but I didn't only lose my confidence, I lost _you_ entirely. And Lolly? You were right. I should have known better. All I got was a constant reminder that I was just another orphan girl with a hopeless crush on her brave, handsome employer."

"Never," he whispered fervently, raising her hand to his lips. "You will never be another anything. You can't doubt it, not any more, not now. My wife. My _wife_ ," he repeated wonderingly. "You are everything to me, to the children."

"The children," she laughed ruefully, "hate me. Except for Marta and Gretl, anyway."

"You're wrong about that," Georg said, "and I can prove it. Because I was there the last time you ran away, the night of the party. They were – well, miserable does not begin to describe it. Grief-stricken. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that it reminded me of the time after Agathe died. Brigitta could barely speak more than few sentences without weeping. Those children adore you, darling, and when I called home to check on them a few hours back, they were wretched with fear and regret. No, I think you had the right of it. They were testing you, and now," he took the end of her right hand ring finger and tugged at it gently, "you've passed the test."

"And the wedding, Georg, I should never have-"

"No, I should have warned you about what you were getting yourself into. Or tried to stop you. The truth is, that I was ambivalent myself. I didn't want you, or anyone else, to think I was trying to keep things quiet to avoid a scandal. I didn't want you to believe yourself worthy of anything less than the best, just because this is my second marriage. Every girl deserves an elegant wedding, and I didn't want to take that away from you, especially when you didn't grow up with much."

They sat quietly in the dark, cold automobile for a moment, but when Maria reached to open the door, he put a hand on her arm to stop her.

"Maria. There's something I need to ask you. To tell you about. Before we go inside."

"What is it?"

"How much do you – I mean," he fumbled with uncharacteristic hesitation – "Do you know what's going to happen? What it's going to be like?"

"Of course I do!" she responded automatically, and then, "I mean, sort of. Some of it. The important parts. More or less. I don't know everything, though, not really," she finished weakly. "Couldn't you tell?"

He smiled. "I suppose. You surprised me, though, from the very beginning. I hadn't expected you to be so-" but he fell silent without finishing the thought.

"Georg," she began, but he held up a hand, as though to warn her off, and then the words poured out of him.

"Look, Maria. Before I was married, when I was young? I _loved_ women. I went through them like cards in a deck. I'm not proud of it, you understand, and after I met Agathe, there was never anyone else, not for me. After we were married, and the babies came along, I imagined that things would – ehrm – cool off. But they didn't. They didn't," he repeated.

Maria watched him closely. In the golden glow from the windows, the expression on his face was soft, and his mind was clearly far away, in a different time, a different place.

"After Agathe was gone, I lost interest in all of that. I'd meet a woman, and she'd be interested, but-"

A question sparked in Maria's mind, one she'd always been afraid to ask, but now she didn't have to.

"If you're wondering about Elsa, it wasn't that way for us. We were never intimate. I told her that it was a matter of honor and respect, but the truth is, I couldn't. I just _couldn't_. I thought that part of my life was behind me."

Georg turned to face her, blue eyes burning in his flushed face.

"That night in the gazebo, I was completely unprepared for what it was like between us. It had all happened so quickly, you know. Realizing that I didn't only admire you, but that I'd fallen in love with you. Knowing that I didn't only want to protect you, but that I wanted you – well. That's when it started, like some kind of fever that came over me until I couldn't think straight, I couldn't stop myself. I was _possessed._ I wanted to marry you as fast as I could, so that-" he looked away, his expression a bleak mask of guilt and regret. "So that I could get you into bed."

Her heart gave a little flip. This was a Captain she'd never seen before, and she wasn't quite sure what to make of him, but after days and weeks of Max Detweiler, it was more promising than alarming.

"When the talk turned to waiting long enough to have a proper wedding, it seemed like a chance to redeem myself, to be the kind of honorable man I wanted to be for you. But it didn't work, not at all. All the tennis games in the world couldn't distract me. I have come to _detest_ tennis, in fact," he said feelingly. "I didn't want to believe it. That I was the kind of man who would – that night I tried to lure you upstairs? Right in my own house, with my children sleeping down the hall, for God's sake!"

He pressed his palms to his forehead and lapsed into silence.

"But Georg," she said timidly. "I don't remember it that way at all. I loved what was happening between us, at least until Max arrived. If you'd given me even one more minute to think about it, I probably _would_ have gone along with you that night. And then when _I_ came to _you_ , you turned me away! You didn't even want me!"

"Want you?" He made a harsh noise that was something between a laugh and a groan. "You're lucky you had Max to protect you. You couldn't even protect yourself, poor girl! Not that you did anything wrong," he added hastily, "you did everything right. Too right. I did not imagine that someone so innocent would be quite so – ehrm - enthusiastic."

Georg took her hand in his and turned it over, once again tugging at the ring finger circled by a bit of ribbon. "By the time you came to me that night, I had convinced myself that if you got even a hint of – if you understood even half of how it is with me, you'd run away again, and this time, you wouldn't come back. I wasn't certain I could keep everything under control, you know, and I thought you'd be frightened of-"

"Frightened?" she interrupted. "I'm not frightened!" But then she paused. "Is there a reason I _should_ be frightened?"

"Well, _I_ was terrified," he said wryly. "Like I was drowning, but too afraid of what would happen if I let you rescue me. I told myself it would be best to wait until we both knew it was forever. Until I could give you the reassurance that I know you're going to need, even if you don't. And speaking of reassurance, how on earth did you manage to convince yourself that I was attracted to that little," he made a distasteful face, "that snake? Lolly. The way she threw herself at me made everything even worse!"

"You _were_ awfully kind to her," Maria reminded him, "much kinder than you ever were to me when I was your governess, and you couldn't take your eyes off of her, either."

"You _asked_ me to be kind to her. And if I'd have taken my eyes off of her this morning, she'd have gone back to Hans. Is that what you wanted? And anyway, I'm a man. Men always look. I can't help looking. Women have been having crushes on me since I was in knee pants. It doesn't have anything to do with you. With us. You simply can't run away every time a woman decides to look at me. If I ran away every time a man looked at you-"

"What are you talking about, Georg?"

"That boy. Harald's son, the one who waltzed with you. His eyes were halfway out of his head the whole evening. And did I run away? No! I simply took defensive action. Got you alone and reminded you who you belonged to, just in case you'd forgotten."

Maria thought back to this morning, and the scene in the foyer. She saw, now, that she had mistaken his preoccupation for anger. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, "It's a bad habit of mine, running away. I told you, I'm far too impulsive. Max tried to tell me not to worry so much about Lolly, but I-"

"It's not entirely your fault. When you ran back to the Abbey the night of the party, I had been unforgivably rude to you. And today, well, I suppose I wouldn't have blamed you for having come to your senses about taking on a middle-aged sea captain and his unruly children."

"Do you know, Georg," she said shyly, "in all my years of running away, this is the first time anyone ever came after me!"

He chuckled. "I will _always_ come after you, you can be sure of that. And in any event, everything's going to be fine now that I've got it figured out. The real problem."

"Problem?"

"It was the waiting. I can't wait any longer, and neither can you," he said firmly. Gradually, he had returned to the self-assured, insightful Captain she recognized. "I knew it was turning _me_ into a madman, but look what it's done to _you_! You said it yourself. There's something about us together. Something that – ehrm – _encourages_ you. If I hadn't been holding back, then you would never have mistaken a housemaid's schoolgirl crush for what we have."

"I know what we have," Maria began.

"You think you know, but you don't. And I can't explain it in words, I can only show you," he gestured toward the cozy little inn with its yellow door. "I'm sorry, Maria. I was trying to protect you, but I see now that I went overboard, and deprived you of exactly what you needed from me. Try to understand. I didn't trust myself to – I had to know it was forever. And now that it is forever, I intend to erase any lingering doubt in your mind."

His words sent a shiver down her spine.

"You're cold," he apologized, "I should not have kept you out here so long, and without a coat."

"I'm not cold," she whispered. "I'm –."

The confident gleam in his deep blue eyes took her breath away, and she went eagerly into his open arms. When he pulled her close and buried his face in her neck, the pleasure crept everywhere, the warmth curling down through her belly and all the way to her fingers and toes.

"Little witch," Georg murmured. "Little imp. My temptress, my siren, my-"

"Siren?" she said incredulously, leaning away from him. "After all that? Do you mean to tell me that _I'm_ a siren?"

"You are indeed. Even dressed for church," he smiled, with a gentle brush of his fingers against her silk dress.

"So much for my lovely trousseau," she said with a rueful laugh. "I bought enough lingerie for a hundred wedding nights, but now here we are, and I'm afraid," she blushed, "I'm not suitably dressed." Maria wasn't about to tell him that she was wearing her convent knickers, which were badly faded and mended a dozen times over. A lifetime of frugal habits had inspired her to get a last few days out of her old wardrobe before her new life began. He'd find out for himself soon enough; the very thought turned her inside out.

Laughing, he hugged her briefly. "I really need to get you inside. I can hardly bear to let go of you, even for an instant, for fear I'll lose you again!" But he let himself out of the car, circling round to open her door, take her arm and lead her toward the inn.

"And here _I_ was afraid that I had lost _you_ ," Maria admitted.

Georg reached into his pocket and drew out the ornate key. Turning toward the bright-yellow door, he said, "I'm waiting for you inside. You only need to come and find me, Maria."

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoO**

 **Well, there you have it. I've written nearly 30 TSOM fics, and I don't think ANY of them ever inspired such interest and reaction! I loved every single review and PM I got, even the ones I didn't agree with. And I do thank you for that.**

 **Now you know for sure that Georg did not make mischief with Lolly. When that possibility first popped up in reviews, I was shocked and amused, since of course I already knew how the story would end. In fact, I went back and carefully reviewed what I'd written, to see if I'd misled my readers in some way. Because my Georg is clueless and arrogant, and he may joke about women with a buddy, but he is an honorable man and deeply in love with Maria.**

 **As for Maria offering herself to Georg: you can only write so many stories before you are drawn to let AU help you explore different aspects of your characters. If I** _ **had**_ **to pick, yes, I think Maria was probably an innocent on her wedding night. But my Maria is also a passionate young woman who draws inspiration and confidence from Georg's desire for her; it's one area where she feels like his equal. One reviewer suggested that Maria offers herself to him to keep him away from Lolly, and I don't think that's it – rather, I think she craves a connection to him that's been lost. And you know, as one reviewer said, even back then, people** _ **did**_ **have premarital sex (even my mother used to tell me this, and she was an extremely modest person who would have been Maria's contemporary).**

 **And here's the thing: if you want to judge Maria for her scandalous behavior, I completely understand, but don't forget to judge Georg, too, who started it between them.**

 **I think the point of this story might be that people having romantic difficulties should** _ **talk**_ **to each other. However, Georg's conclusion, that actions speak louder than words, is much sexier, so I'm giving him the last word on the matter.**

 **Getting so many thoughtful, engaged reviews has been a wonderful and unexpected treat. I don't respond to guest reviews, but I will make one exception to tell Clare that, in lemacd's words, she shouldn't be reviewing fanfic, she should be writing it. What an amazing idea she had!**

 **Anyhow, there will be a short end-tying epilogue, but for now, don't own TSOM or anything about it, all for love. And happy birthday to my prompt-giver lemacd.**


	4. Chapter 4

**EPILOGUE**

Maria looked back to where Reverend Mother stood behind the gates, flanked on the one side by Sister Margarethe with her reassuring smile, and on the other side by Sister Berthe, who managed to look proud and severe at the same time. One final pang of loss for what she was giving up. One last wistful look, and then the gates clanged shut. Now she would be serving God by marrying her Captain and raising his children.

She turned to where Liesl and the little girls were waiting.

"Mother?" Liesl whispered.

Maria's throat closed at the sound of those two simple syllables. Although things with the children had improved considerably since her return to the villa three days ago, she had nearly given up hope on this oldest one, the one who had been forced to act as a mother herself for four long years.

"Mother, I-" The girl thrust the massive bridal bouquet in Maria's direction, along with a beseeching look.

"Liesl. Darling. I am so proud to have you as my daughter, and so lucky that you will let me share you with your mother in heaven." They shared a warm embrace, and then Liesl turned to tend her sisters.

Maria gripped her bouquet in one hand and nervously smoothed down the heavy white satin skirt with the other. She glanced behind her at the long train, neatly arranged in preparation for her walk down the aisle.

The girls had voted against this gown, preferring something more daring to its modest long sleeves and high neck. But now she was grateful to have overruled them. Because even if no one could actually _see_ the evidence, Maria was only too aware of what was hidden beneath satin and veil: the lingering twinges, and her skin, still tender everywhere he had kissed her. _Everywhere_.

They had been married late Sunday night, and it wasn't until Wednesday evening that they returned to the villa, sticking firmly to their stories of three nights spent apart, she at Nonnberg and he in Innsbruck. For the next two days, she'd relaxed into the love and acceptance of Georg's family, until last night, when she'd returned to the Abbey to spend one last night under its roof. He'd called her there, just before bedtime, to wish her luck on her long walk up the aisle.

"How long?" she asked, feeling her cheeks turn hot, "How long will it take us to reach Paris?"

"In a hurry to see the sights, are you? To do a bit of shopping?" he'd teased.

Then his voice dropped to a silky murmur that stirred her deeply, a reminder of their three nights together. "It's eight hours, Maria darling, but I think you'll find that the trip simply flies by. Because I got us a private compartment, you see. Nothing but the best for my wife. My life, I mean," and he'd rung off with a laugh.

She loved him now in a way she wouldn't have been able to comprehend, not even a week ago. She loved Georg for the way he had loved _her:_ with tender patience and unreserved passion, all at once. Maria understood, now, why he'd rejected the opportunity for one furtive night in the villa in favor of waiting until they could share three long days and nights together. Because he was right: it _had_ been a little overwhelming at times. After all of his dire warnings, she hadn't been surprised to find herself clinging to him for reassurance.

The real surprise had been how he had clung to her.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a drum roll, the crash of the organ, the soaring voices of the choir. Liesl started the little girls on their journey down the aisle and followed behind at a measured pace. Maria peered toward the altar, searching until her eyes made out the tall, dark-uniformed figure waiting for her there.

Taking a last, deep breath, she stepped forward to meet him.

 **OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo**

 **I don't own TSOM or anything about it. Thanks for the fabulous discussion! And for the birthday prompt, lemacd!**


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